Wake Up
by xxBurningxx
Summary: [Pricefield AU] Really, she should just leave. It'd be simple: gather up her things, get dressed, and waltz out the door and try to put everything past her. But all it takes is another glance at the sleeping blue-haired girl before she's scribbling out a hasty note to leave on the nightstand before doing the Walk of Shame.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: May or may not be lightly inspired by the game One Night Stand. And also the song from which this story is titled, and quoted.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Life is Strange or its characters. I also don't own AWOLNATION's Wake Up.**

* * *

 **Wake Up  
** **by.** _xxBurningxx_

* * *

 _Don't you fall,  
_

 _it's only gonna take a little time  
_ _before we start to lose our minds.  
_ _We're leavin' all the haters behind  
_ _before the sun decides to hide._

 _I know you think I'm maybe out of line;  
_ _I'm scared to love what we love most.  
_ _It's only gonna take a little time  
_ _before we start to lose out minds._

 _Wake up._

* * *

It's the rays of early-morning sunlight filtering through the blinds that initially pulls her out of her unconscious state. Or at least, that's what Max thinks, but maybe it was the sleepy little grumble that sounded somewhere to her right. She squints against the sun for all of three seconds before shutting her eyes again and pulling the comforter up to her shoulders, hugging the fabric close to her chest. It's nice and warm and Max is still pleasantly floating adrift a comfortably sleepy haze, and she's not ready to exit yet.

It's for that reason, and for that reason _alone_ , that she doesn't shoot out of the bed in alarm. Max drifts in her solitary bubble for at least another ten minutes, and she's walking right along the precipice of unconsciousness again when another small groan sounds beside her. However, this time the noise doesn't merely rouse her with a soft shake of the shoulder... this time, it abruptly grabs her by the ear and slaps her awake.

Eyes shooting open, Max immediately sits up, blinking numerous times against the lighted scenery. Cold air affronts her chest as the comforter falls and icy panic laces up her spine because she realizes _she's not wearing anything_ and Max scrambles to grab the material and cover herself up again. Her heart thumps uncomfortably loud in her ears and her throat feels constricted, making it seem as though breathing is a long-lost art that she's not familiar with.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she counts to three in her head, accompanying the numbers with deep inhalations and slow exhalations in a meager attempt to calm herself. When Max finally feels like she's under control enough to _not_ have a panic attack, she opens her eyes and risks looking at the person next to her. Immediately, blood rushes to her face and she slaps an embarrassed hand over her eyes, ridiculous as it is... but the _woman_ next to her is sprawled out in a less-than-graceful manner, and also _sans clothes_ , and the comforter isn't hiding anything.

Hand still over her face and refusing to look, Max awkwardly grabs another part of the comforter and tosses it over the other girl, _hoping_ that it gets the job done. And when she takes a hesitant peek, Max is only slightly relieved to see that the other girl is at least covered now, but so is her face. She bites her lip because she should probably at least move the comforter down a little out of respect, but just as Max extends her arm to do so, the girl makes another little noise and she snatches her hand back, heart racing. Max isn't ready to cross that bridge yet.

Instead, she looks around her surroundings. The entire room is unfamiliar, and it doesn't take a genius to deduce that this is _definitely_ not her apartment. There's also the fact that while Max is messy, she isn't _this_ messy; there's shit strewn all over the place, like a hurricane had whipped itself through the area before promptly exiting through the window. Max anxiously curls her toes when she spots _her own_ top lying in a sad little heap near the door, her pants thrown not far off either... There's no signs of her bra or underwear, but she has no doubt that they're _somewhere_ in this mess of a room, and she mentally groans, massaging her temples.

 _What the fuck did I do?_ she thinks, trying to recall the events of the previous night. Her memories are foggy at best, and the ghost of a hangover latches onto her head. Then a short vibration startles her out of her gloomy thoughts, and her eyes are drawn to her left, where a phone is face-down on the nightstand. She hastily makes a grab at it, thankful that it's a familiar device and most certainly hers, before unlocking it to see the message. It's from Kate.

 **Kate:** _Are you okay? Things got sort of out of hand last night..._

Max just stares at the screen for a few moments because she doesn't know what to say, and at the same time, she wants to know just how "out of hand" things got. Another glance to her right tells her that the other girl is still (presumably) sleeping soundly underneath the comforter. Max can't exactly tell her hardcore Christian friend that she's naked in a stranger's bed; for some reason, she gets the feeling the poor girl wouldn't react well.

 **Max:** _Fine. I'm fine. What happened?_

Only a few seconds pass before a response comes in.

 **Kate:** _We were at the club with Warren and some of his friends and then you just disappeared at some point. I tried texting but you didn't answer._

Scrolling up, sure enough, there are numerous worried texts from her friend, time-stamped from the previous night. A small prickle of guilt tingles through her chest as she writes a reply.

 **Max:** _I'm really sorry, Kate. But I promise I'm fine._

That's only somewhat true. She's honestly still freaked the fuck out, but she's apparently already been a terrible friend last night and she doesn't want to make Kate worry any more than she already has. When almost five minutes pass, she assumes she's not going to get another response, and Max can only hope that she's not upset. _I'll have to take her out for tea sometime..._

At the very least, though, the brief text conversation was able to bring a few memories to the surface about the events that had transpired last night. She remembers meeting up with Kate and Warren, and deciding that they'd go out to have a "party of their own" because last night had been the date of one of the biggest Vortex Club parties of the year, of which they obviously were not invited. Not that any of them had cared about that, but it had seemed to be the _only_ thing anyone could talk about in their small college town, and that fact was admittedly a bit fraying on the nerves.

Apparently it'd been a mistake. Max wonders why or how she ended up drunk enough to accompany a stranger to bed. She'd never been a fan of drinking, and it's hard for her to imagine letting herself get to that point, even if she was with a group of Warren's nerd friends. Shaking her head, she looks over and her stomach does a little flop when she thinks about pulling the comforter down.

She's _curious_ though, because she hadn't exactly gotten a good look earlier... Hesitant fingers extend to lift up the covers, and when they do, Max can only stare as her pulse steadily increases. The first defining feature Max really notes is the fact that her hair is _blue._ And usually Max isn't really into that sort of stuff, but she has to admit that it sort of suites the other girl's slender face and... The memory is faint and blurry and she can't even be entirely sure, but she thinks her hair matches her eyes too.

Max is then left to awkwardly sit there, at a loss for what to do. She twiddles her thumbs for a good expanse of quiet seconds; she's hardly familiar with these types of scenarios. _Do I... just leave?_ But isn't that what assholes do after a one night stand? But then she has to ask herself if that's even what this is? _Of course it is,_ Max thinks, shaking her head, but the fact is still a little surreal. Mentally acknowledging it is even more difficult. _Who would have that plain and boring Max Caulfield would have..._ Another quick glance at the blue-haired girl and she can _feel_ the blood rushing to her face, heating her cheeks up.

Honestly though, Max has no idea what to do with herself. A part of her wants to get dressed and then take a peek around the room, see if she can learn anything about the girl lying next to her, but then she envisions the latter waking up and she immediately retracts the idea. Really, she should just leave. It'd be simple: gather up her things, get dressed, and waltz out the door and try to put everything past her. She could pretend it never happened, tell her friends that she'd just gotten a little sick and decided to head home early, and everything would be great and cheery... right?

The blue-haired girl stirs a little, and Max's stomach sinks and she freezes (not that'd she'd been moving in the first place, though). And that's what does it. After many fearful seconds of baited breath, waiting to see if she'd wake up, Max decides that she needs to depart. She _needs_ to get out of this stranger's house.

As quietly and with as little movement as she can muster, the brunette removes herself from under the covers and immediately makes a beeline for her clothes; she finds her underwear somehow kicked underneath the bed a little, but she fails to locate her bra. Too intent on getting out of there as soon as possible, she decides to ditch the article of clothing and leave it behind. The moment she's fully clothed and her phone's securely in her back pocket, Max makes her way for the door... and _really, she should just leave._

But as her hand hovers over the doorknob, she takes a look back at the sleeping woman and something in her chest—a little something that she can't even identify—snaps. _She_ is _cute..._

And before she even really knows what she's doing, Max is rooting around in this stranger's room for a piece of paper (and manages to strike gold with a miscellaneous pad of sticky notes) and a writing utensil (she finds a pen on the desk by the window) with the intentions of leaving behind _some_ kind of information. But then she comes to the actual message-writing part of the issue, and she doesn't even know what to scribble down.

She starts writing, "Had a good time," on the paper but then scratches it out and then rips the sticky note off before promptly crumbling it and shoving it in her pocket. Max doesn't remember enough of last night to warrant saying that... although what she does remember _is_... she blushes again and shakes her head before trying again.

Again, she only manages a small string of awkward words before crumpling the thing up. In the end, she simply writes her phone number down before jaggedly sticking on the nightstand, mumbling, "I'm so fucking awkward," under her breath as she does so. And while the words are uttered so softly that it shouldn't have been humanly possible for anyone to hear them, the blue-haired girl stirs nonetheless, causing Max to duck out of there with a new-found vigor.

And in retrospect, there was no possible way Max could have ever predicted how important that decision to leave her number behind would be.

* * *

 **Author's Note: This might get a second chapter from Chloe's POV. It was supposed to be a two-shot anyway, but then things fizzled out. I'm bad about that. (I'm also working on Of the Night, so if you're a follower of that, fear not... though I'm not going to guarantee any updates anytime soon.)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Life is Strange or its characters. I also don't own Metro Station's Wake Up.**

* * *

 **Wake Up  
by. **_xxBurningxx_

* * *

 _I don't wanna wake up without you now,  
_ _even when the sky comes falling down.  
_ _Let's live forever, always together.  
_ _I don't wanna wake up without you now._

 _I don't wanna wake up without you now.  
_ _When your heart is broken and on the ground  
_ _I'll pick up the pieces, always for keepin',  
_ _I don't wanna wake up without you now._

* * *

It's the sound of someone muttering under their breath, followed by the soft click of the door shutting, that ultimately manages to drag Chloe up and over the line of consciousness. Blinking her eyes open, she stares at the pasty dull ceiling for all of three seconds before memories begin flooding back to her like a torrential tsunami crashing down on her. She shoots up into a sitting position and immediately finds herself regretting the decision, pain lacing across her head. Placing her hands over her eyes for a few seconds and willing the unpleasantly clingy hangover to go away, Chloe takes a looks around her room.

She spots her clothes on the floor, and while that's not particularly unusual, it's the fact that said clothes are from last night and _not on her body_ that send a jolt of adrenaline down her spine. _Oh, right..._ Looking over, there's an absence in the bed next to her, but a clear indicator that someone _had_ been there not long ago, considering that the comforter's thrown up and a quick pat of the area tells her it's still warm.

 _That must have been them leaving_... Chloe thinks, but then there's an alarming sense of urgency gnawing at her gut, because the previous night brings forth memories of her heart racing and sharp brown irises filling her vision. Immediately stumbling out of the bed and scrambling to make herself at least somewhat decent, Chloe manages to stagger outside and down the stairs of her apartment, eyes searching the sidewalk and parking lot outside. There's no sign of the... it only takes a few seconds of digging through her fuzzy thoughts to vividly recall the brunette she'd been with last night.

Short hair, impossibly cute freckles, and a surprisingly witty tongue despite her inebriation. Chloe finds her heart thumping a few paces too fast at the mental images that are surfacing and she drags herself back inside, her mood admittedly soured a little at the fact that she hadn't been fast enough to catch the girl before she left.

Once she's inside, she properly fixes herself up and throws on a fresh set of clothes, not that it matters much because she promptly throws herself down on the bed when she's finished. Groaning into her hands, Chloe mentally curses herself. _Idiot! Why do you gotta sleep so much?! If only I'd woken up sooner... or if she'd bother to wake me up without just leaving..._ She scowls then. Yeah. That was common courtesy, right? Sneaking out without a word was considered rude these days, wasn't it?

But her thoughts flicker to the previous night, them sitting in a somewhat secluded booth in the corner of the bar.

* * *

 _"You're really cute, you know that? I don't, uh..." She trails off like she forgot the words she was planning on using. Then she suddenly slaps a hand down on the table as the syllables seemingly return to her. "I don't usually say that about strangers. Not out loud, at least," she giggles. "It must be because I'm drunk." The last word comes out on a note that borders sing-song._

 _"Maybe you should stop ordering these, then," Chloe says with a smirk, snatching away the fresh shot that's been brought to the table, and throwing it back and down her throat. It burns her insides, and she relishes in it; probably due to the fact that it's her third one already and the buzz is really starting to hit her now, but the orange glow of the bar lamp makes the brunette seem as though she's radiating beauty. And she's not beautiful by stereotypical terms, no, but the college-girl across from her is undeniably_ hot _in a strange way that Chloe's not used to being attracted to._

 _"What about your friends?" Chloe adds, throwing a glance at the somewhat small group of loud guys on the other side of the bar; they're whooping and hollering, despite the fact that they don't look like the typical bar crowd. There's one poor girl who seems to be with them, who's trying hard to fit in, but she's only holding a can of soda in her hand and currently awkwardly staring at the ground._

 _The brunette looks at them too before answering, "Forget them. Warren's friends are sort of assholes, anyway. Not that Victoria and her crew isn't either." She groans. "Fuck all of them. I don't even wanna think about anyone from Blackwell tonight. You're not from Blackwell, right?"_

 _She laughs. "That preppy-bitch college? Nah." Then Chloe pauses, bites her lip, and then adds, "Okay, well I sorta went for like, three months before they kicked my punk-ass out."_

 _The girl across from her offers a sly grin. "You were too good-looking for them to handle."_

 _Chloe has to give the other girl points, because she's consumed four_ — _or was it five?_ — _shots already, and that's not including whatever she'd already had with her friends, but is still managing to make her blush. And she doesn't look like the type who'd handle her alcohol well. "If_ my _looks were too much for them, you better watch out, because I figure you've only got a few days before they're kicking you out too."_

 _And that earns her a stomach-twisting grin in response._

* * *

 _It feels like every inch of her fucking skin is on fire, a blazing inferno as she runs one hand through the brunette's hair and the other grips her waist. Her breath comes out in small little pants when she opens her eyes, and the brown eyes staring back at her are threatening to swallow her whole. "So do you have a name?" she breathes, leaning in for another chaste kiss before breaking and continuing, "Or do I have to keep referring to you as 'hot-college-girl' in my head?"_

 _"Mm, I'm not used to being referred to as hot... I sorta like it..."_

 _Chloe has to bite her lip to contain the groan that nearly escapes past her throat when the brunette ducks her head and begins nibbling at a spot beneath her ear. Then, feather-light across her skin, she mumbles, "Max," and the responding shiver that ripples down Chloe's entire body is almost enough to make her knees weak._

 _"I'm Chloe," she replies, pulling 'Max' back and diving in for her lips. Despite the drunken and aroused haze that's nearly completely eaten up her brain's ability to think, she can't ignore the spark that sizzling between them; it's a sharp and buzzing little thing she hasn't encountered with another person for a very, very long time. Somewhere in the back of her muddied thoughts, she hopes it's not just her imagination._

 _Then Max is pushing her against the wall, and her mind is promptly wrought back to the woman in front of her, who's sucking on her neck. "Fuck," she hisses, head thumping against the drywall, fingers twisting in the back of Max's shirt. Without really thinking, her hands begin tugging at the fabric, attempting to lift the material up, which results in Max backing up ever-so-slightly._

 _And for a terrible second, fear and panic dart up Chloe's spine, terrified she's misread their current situation. But Max's eyes sober up just a bit, and she says, "I really don't... do this. Like, ever."_

 _Chloe offers the best smile she can, but she's not sure how successful it is. "Honestly, me neither." It's true. She hasn't been in bed with someone else since... even now, Chloe refuses to recall the name. Max looks away for a second, and Chloe just stares at her ruffled hair and red cheeks and cute freckles and adds, "We don't have to if you don't wanna."_

 _The buzz of arousal that blazes through her when Max is on her lips again is enough to make her feel like she's floating, and this time she doesn't try to contain her moans._

* * *

"Maybe she panicked?" Chloe mumbles to herself, sighing and shutting her eyes. She tries really hard to ignore the disappointment bubbling under the surface of her skin and radiating throughout her chest. She tries telling herself that she shouldn't be surprised, because this was the nature of one night stands. But nothing she attempts to reassure herself with does any good, because all that she can think about is that _spark_ they'd had.

Groaning, and not in the good way like the previous night, Chloe rubs her face, remembering that she's supposed to work today. Figuring from the way the sun's already a fair height up into the sky and streaming through the window, she has a sinking feeling that she might already be late. _Fuck it, I feel like shit and I'm calling in sick_ , she thinks to herself, rolling over to reach for her phone. Her boss will be pissed but Chloe's current state of mind is screaming about how she doesn't care.

That's when she sees the little sticky note plastered to the device.

And when she hastily makes a grab for it and sees the ten individual numbers scrawled there, Chloe has a remarkably difficult time wiping away the grin that's wormed its way onto her lips.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Dammit... I guess it'd be cruel if I didn't write a third chapter where they meet up in a less inebriated fashion, huh? Yeahhh. There's a very good chance I'll be writing a short third chapter to sum things up with this.**

 **If you haven't already read it, I recommend checking out my Pricefield AU, Of the Night, where I'm putting a lot more effort into planning and developing the plot, and it's also a full-length story haha. Thank you.**


End file.
